(Disclaimer: Ya know, they're not mine. I don't like it any more than you do.)
(a/n: I was given a challenge to write a drabble based, themed around or including the word "and." So here goes.)
And, instead of watching a woman walk away from me, like in the past, I'm watching her walk toward me, a simple duffel bag slung over her shoulder, pain and tears in her eyes.
She slides into the seat beside me and sighs, as I look at her for confirmation. That she did it. Ended the hell she's been living in.
"He's not exactly heartbroken," she says, quietly. "He's gonna be out by the end of the week – it's my place. But I don't think I can go back there."
I touch her arm. "And you shouldn't have to."